


Don't Slide Away

by indelibleink89



Category: IT (2017) RPF, IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - High School, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Swearing, You can pry this ship from my cold dead hands, but like listen, there is not enough decent material for this ship and its a dang shame, this is my personal otp, yeah i know everyone is on the reddie hype train especially because of the new movie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-10
Updated: 2019-09-10
Packaged: 2020-10-14 06:46:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20596460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indelibleink89/pseuds/indelibleink89
Summary: God, what was hedoing? This was so stupid. It wasn’t going to change anything. He knew it wouldn’t. Bill was still going to leave, Richie was still going to leave, and they would probably never see each other again. He should just go back home, go to bed and pretend he hadn’t had the wild urge to confess his longest held secret to his best friend. But the deep ache in his chest at the thought of letting his feelings fade into memory kept his feet rooted to the concrete. So, he took a deep breath, ignored the hammering of his heart, and decided to stay.Bill was the author, but Richie had read so many of his stories that maybe he could be like the heroes he’d always envied that lived inside them. Maybe, for once, he could take control of his own narrative.





	Don't Slide Away

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah this is a thing. I'm really sad about the lack of Bichie content on AO3 so I wrote this. I might do more in the future. I hope you enjoy! And as always, feedback is much appreciated!

His eyes flew open, body jerking away from an impact that never came. With a few sharp breaths, Richie Tozier realized that he’d been dreaming. _Just a dream._ He thought. No, not a dream; a nightmare.

For a few moments, he simply lay there, tangled up in his sheets, letting his breathing slow and his mind calm. Just a dream. The cruel words, the loneliness, the heartache. It had only been a product of his imagination. Nothing more.

So, why did he still feel so cold? Why did his body burn with the urge to get up, to run into the night and never look back?

Finally, he sat up, shoving the curls of his hair from his eyes and leaned over to turn on the bedside lamp. Grabbing his glasses from the table, he blinked into the dim light of his room. It looked like it always did; clothes strewn all over the floor and the desk and even on top of his computer monitor, a mixture of the faces of his idols and favorite bands lined his walls. There was only one thing that was new, one thing that stood out from the comfortable chaos that he’d gotten used to.

Richie slid off the bed, striding towards his desk, long legs making the journey a short one. Reaching out to take the item that sat on the only clean part of the desk, he realized that his hand was trembling. Why was it doing that?

But, he knew why. He just couldn’t, or wouldn’t, admit it.

The item in question wasn’t something Richie would have ever gotten for himself. It was kind of ridiculous when he thought about it, but that had been part of the point. After all, who would have thought that Bill Denbrough would have given him a _fountain pen_ of all things for his seventeenth birthday. It was so fancy and pretentious and so _not_ Richie. Hell, it had even come with its own wooden case for safe keeping. 

_”For writing your award winning jokes.”_ Bill had said, eyes alight with mischief, but also a level of sincerity that only he was ever capable of. 

Richie, stomach in knots and brain full of mush, could only think to reply, _”I’m not very good at writing my own jokes.”_

Now, as he sat back down on his bed, rolling the pen over and over in his hands, he thought of all the things he’d been unable to say or do. No one had ever called Richie a brave man, least of all himself. He may have been full of brash recklessness and over confident statements, but none of that was true bravery. No, when it came down to it, Richie Tozier was and always had been, a coward.

Bill was leaving. The letter that he’d proudly displayed made it all too real. Getting accepted into NYU had been a dream of Bill’s for years, and Richie was happy for him. It didn’t matter that it meant he would be moving multiple states away, or that Richie would probably not see him again for a very long time. To be honest, he didn’t even know if Bill would ever come back to Derry. After the horror that had been his younger brother’s death when they were kids, Bill’s relationship with his parents had never been the same. Would he even want to visit them during holidays? 

Even then, would Richie still be here to see him if he did? He had dreams of his own to chase and they were a siren song that was pulling his heart to the west coast. Far from home, far from the boring, yet comforting notion of Derry. And far, far away from the bone chilling fear that haunted him in his dreams. He would be better for it.

Yet, here he sat, staring at a gawdy pen that he’d never been able to bring himself to use, trying to ignore the way his heart clenched painfully. There was a part of him that knew he couldn’t do this forever. He couldn’t deny who he was, how he felt. No matter how much he’d perfected it over the years. What was he really protecting himself from? Pain? Shame? He felt those anyway. It was going to hurt when Bill left. He wasn’t sure how badly, but he knew it would leave him bleeding.

Would it hurt less if he just admitted the truth? Would it be easier to watch Bill drive away if he knew just how much Richie had been keeping from him? He wished the answers were easier to know. Unfortunately, his life was a joke and Richie needed to write the punchline. No matter how bad he was at it. 

“Shit.” the hoarse whisper left his lips without his consent. He didn’t know if he could do this.

So, in a momentous act of bravery he hadn’t been aware he was capable of, Richie stood from the bed, found the pair of jeans he’d worn the day before, threw them on, shoved the pen in his pocket, and headed for the door. It didn’t matter that he had no idea what time it was, it didn’t matter that he had to sneak through the house to avoid waking his parents. He needed to do this, no matter how terrifying it was. Maybe it would be easier in the dark.

The cool night air hit his skin as he stepped outside and the chill that ran through him made him laugh out loud. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Richie figured he should have put pulled a sweater over the thin tee shirt he’d worn to bed. It didn’t matter now, though. He was already halfway through his neighborhood, walking, jogging, then running down the familiar sidewalks. His destination was so ingrained in his mind that he could have made it there in his sleep.

Maybe he _was_ still sleeping. Maybe this was all a dream, and that was why he was doing something so utterly ridiculous.

By the time he reached Bill’s house, he was panting and sweating. Taking a minute to double over to catch his breath, Richie finally realized he couldn’t exactly go up and ring the doorbell. Undoubtedly, neither one of Bill’s parents would be unhappy to be woken up to their son’s obnoxious friend on their front porch.

God, what was he _doing_? This was so stupid. It wasn’t going to change anything. He knew it wouldn’t. Bill was still going to leave, Richie was still going to leave, and they would probably never see each other again. He should just go back home, go to bed and pretend he hadn’t had the wild urge to confess his longest held secret to his best friend. But the deep ache in his chest at the thought of letting his feelings fade into memory kept his feet rooted to the concrete. So, he took a deep breath, ignored the hammering of his heart, and decided to stay.

Bill was the author, but Richie had read so many of his stories that maybe he could be like the heroes he’d always envied that lived inside them. Maybe, for once, he could take control of his own narrative.

Reaching into his pocket, his hand brushed the pen, before resting on the cell phone he’d not bothered to take out the night before. When he pulled it out and found Bill’s contact name, he hesitated yet again. He couldn’t stop now. He was tired of being a coward.

So, he pressed the screen and brought the phone to his ear. Every ring sent a shock to his heart. Maybe Bill wouldn’t answer. He was sleeping, after all. Maybe Richie would be sent to voicemail and he could hang up and try again later.

“Richie?” The sound of Bill’s half asleep voice caused his heart to pound so hard, he thought it might explode. “Y-y-you okay?” Bill had made tremendous progress on his stutter, but there were still times that it bled through and Richie had always felt bad when he was the cause.

“Uh, sorry, sorry to wake you up right now, uh, in the middle of the night.” He tripped over his own words as he struggled to find the right ones. How the hell was he going to do this without sounding like a crazy person? “I’m outside your house.” 

Well, that was definitely not the way to do it.

“What?” Bill asked, confusion and concern dripping from the single syllable. 

“Uh, I mean, I uh, need to talk to you, and uh, I’m outside your house.” 

Wow, he was so fucking good at this. Someone please give him an award for his incredible performance.

“You’re at m-muh-my house? Richie, it’s three am.” 

So, that’s what time it was. Yeah, he definitely sounded like a damn lunatic right now. Maybe he should have waited until the morning. Maybe he should have thought more clearly about this. Hell, maybe he should have done a lot of things that weren’t this. Why was he such an idiot?

“Shit, sorry Bill. I guess ol’ Trashmouth’s finally lost his mind. We all knew this day was coming, didn’t we? I’d better go before someone slaps a straightjacket on me. I wouldn’t do well in the loony bin, I don’t think. I’d end up telling my doctor that I want to fuck his mom or some dumb shit like that and next thing you know I’m getting a lobotomy and no one will be able to hear my fantastic jokes again and the world will be so dark and-”

“Richie, shut up.” Bill’s voice was clearer now and he saw the light in his bedroom illuminate the window.

“Sorry. I’ll leave now.” 

“Wait. Stay there. I’ll be r-right down.” 

“Really, Bill, you don’t have to-”

“Stay.” The command was soft, but unmistakable, so he listened. Even after Bill hung up his phone and Richie nervously shoved his own back into his pocket. He found his fingers curling around the pen as he heard the locks on the door come undone. 

When the door slowly opened and Bill stepped out into the moonlight, Richie’s heart dropped at the sight of him. He’d long since gotten used to the clench he felt whenever he first spotted the boy, but tonight the pain was particularly dreadful. The way his normally well kept hair stuck up in different directions from sleep, and how he tugged at the sleeves of his sweatshirt, and the look on his face as he took in the curly haired idiot who stood at the bottom of his porch steps. It was all too much.

“Shit, it’s cold out here.” Bill spoke first, and Richie could hear the tension in his voice, even as he tried to hide it.

“Is it?” Richie managed, voice much smaller than it had probably ever been. If only his teachers could see him now. 

With a nod, Bill stepped closer, stopping at the top of the steps. “Yeah.” His eyes scanned the road behind Richie before asking, “Did you walk here?” 

“Uh, sort of.” Richie had no intention of revealing how he’d bounded like a Gazelle fleeing from a predator to get here. He already sounded crazy enough. 

Bill descended a single stair, and Richie instinctively stepped back. A flurry of emotions crossed Bill’s face, but he stopped and Richie was thankful. He didn’t think he could handle being any closer to the boy. Not when his heart still felt like it might burst out of his chest. God, he was so stupid. This was such a stupid idea. Why had he come here? All he was going to do was make a fool of himself.

“R-R-Richie, are you okay?” 

The stutter and the concern in his voice, along with the worry in his eyes, hit Richie hard in the chest, and he felt like such an ass hole. This was a mistake. 

“Shit, Bill, I… I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come here.” His shaking hand found it’s way into his hair as he shoved the messy locks away from his face before continuing, “I’m gonna leave now, fuck, sorry I wasted your time.” He turned away as he spoke, wondering if he could run fast enough back home to escape the mortification that filled his stomach in this moment.

Before he could try, he heard Bill call after him, “Wait!” and felt a warm hand wrap around the ice of his forearm forcing him to stop in his tracks. He didn’t turn back, though. He couldn’t face the softness of Bill’s eyes. He didn’t deserve the kindness that his friend would unfailingly show to anyone and everyone who needed it. Not when he’d come here with such selfish desires. It had been wrong, and he’d known it was wrong. For so many reasons. 

“Richie, please.” Bill spoke softly as if trying not to spook his friend. “Look at me.” 

Didn’t he know he was asking too much? Didn’t he understand that if Richie did what he asked and found the caring disquiet on his face that he knew was there, that he would literally collapse into nothing? Too many times, he’d endured looking at Bill and feeling like he might come apart piece by piece. Too many times, he’d shoved it down, pretending that it was nothing, that all he had for him was friendship. Could he stand it once more? 

What he needed to do was to dissolve the tension, to think of a bad joke that would put them both at ease, and leave before he damaged what they had. He’d managed to do it all those times before, but now… now it was a mountain that he just couldn’t climb.

Instead, he stayed frozen in place, somehow finding his voice enough to plead, “Let go of me, Bill.” Letting go was what Richie should have done in the first place, and he wouldn’t have gotten himself into this mess. Maybe if he willed it hard enough, he could just turn into a puddle and wash away down the drain, lost in the sewers forever.

“No.” Bill’s voice brought him back into himself. “You can t-t-t-t-” The familiar struggle stopped him for a moment and Richie felt another wave of shame wash over him. “Talk to me.” Bill finally managed, frustration leaking into his voice, though Richie knew it wasn’t directed at him. Even if it should be. “Just tell me what’s wrong.” 

An almost crazed laugh found its way out of Richie’s mouth as he said, “I can’t! You don’t want me to. Just let me leave.” 

“You don’t know that. You d-d-don’t know what I w-want.” That time, he knew the frustration was for him. Good. He deserved it. 

Because he hadn’t been thinking about what Bill would want as he rushed over in a craze. He hadn’t been thinking about how cruel it would be to say what he wanted to when it wouldn’t change anything about the future. All it could do was cause Richie to lose one of his dearest friends, and he didn’t think he could deal with that. It didn’t matter that he was going to lose him anyway. He couldn’t do anything that would cause him to leave early. Not when he still needed what friends he had so desperately. Even if he could never admit it, his friends were what held him together.

When Richie stayed silent, still staring at the sewer drain at his feet, he heard Bill take in a breath to speak again.

“Richie. Please.” His voice was quiet as he said this, calm and rational and just so _Bill_, and it was more terrifying than anything Richie had felt in his life. Because he knew that he couldn’t deny it.

Slowly, with a shaky breath and blinking back a sudden wetness in his eyes, Richie turned to face his friend. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Richie was glad that Bill still had ahold of his arm, for fear that if he let go, Richie might float away into the night. 

Bill tried for a reassuring smile, and Richie thought that his heart might actually explode this time. “Don’t worry. I won’t judge. I know you too well. I don’t think anything you could tell me would surprise me.” 

Again, Richie felt that half crazed laugh bubble up inside him, “You underestimate me, Denbrough.” 

Something entered Bill’s expression that Richie didn’t quite understand as he replied, “Constantly.” 

It was then that Bill seemed to remember that he was holding Richie’s arm, and he let go with an apologetic smile. When he did, Richie suddenly felt the true chill of the night air and he crossed his arms against it. Noticing, a frown crossed Bill’s face as he said, “Let’s go inside. My parents are asleep. They won’t hear us.” 

Instinctively, Richie shook his head. That was the last thing he wanted to do right now. “No, I’d rather stay out here if that’s alright with you.” He tried to say it in a joking manner, but it fell flat.

Bill’s frown deepened at this. “Okay, then take this.” He started to pull off the sweatshirt, and Richie stopped him quickly. 

“No, no. Stop. Stop that! Just…. stop being you!” It didn’t make any sense, and Richie knew it didn’t make any sense, but he didn’t care.

Tugging the shirt back down, confusion crossed Bill’s face, “What?” 

With a huff, Richie spoke, “You’re always so fucking nice to me, even when I’m an ass to you. Like, I just fucking woke you up at three in the morning and I’m acting like such a fucking dick right now. You should be pissed at me.” 

Bill rolled his eyes at this, “You’re obviously upset. I’m just t-trying to help you. You’d d-d-do the same for me.”

Richie paused at this, taken aback by the truth of it. If Bill had woken him up in the middle of the night, obviously upset and talking nonsense, he wouldn’t hesitate to do whatever he could for him. 

He had no choice, he had to tell him. It didn’t matter what it would do to them, it didn’t matter if it made Bill want nothing to do with him. Whatever would entail from this, he couldn’t stop it. All he could do was to try to pick up the pieces of himself when he was done.

“I,” He started, voice trembling, not sure how to say it, “Bill, I-I-I…”

“I thought I was the one with the stutter.” It was obvious by the small quirk of his lips that he was joking, or trying to anyway. Hoping to ease the tension. “Come on, Tozier. Spit it out.” 

With a deep breath, Richie jumped into the deep end. “I love you, Billy.” 

He expected shock or horror, maybe disgust. What he got was a chuckle and an “I love you, too, man. That’s why you can tell me whatever’s wrong.”

Frowning, Richie shook his head. Bill hadn’t understood. Now all he could do was say the things he’d hoped no one would ever know, “No, not like that. Like, I… I think about you all the fucking time. When you’re not around, I wish you were. And, a-and when you _are_ around, it fucking hurts! Because, I know, I fucking know you don’t feel the same and sometimes I can’t breathe when I think about it. So, I-I make shitty jokes and I say stupid things and I try to make you laugh because it’s all I can get from you.” He shook his head, no longer able to watch the look on Bill’s face, which had gone from a small smile, to confusion, to understanding and something else that Richie couldn’t quite make out, and maybe he didn’t want to. “When you leave for school,” He continued more quietly, “and when I… I’ll never see you again and it isn’t fucking fair.”

They were both silent for a moment, Richie still too afraid to look up, to see whatever painful expression that Bill would surely be directing at him. He wanted to crawl into a hole, wanted to take this entire night back. Instead, he stood shivering in the late winter air. Too much of a coward to face his own friend.

“I’m s-s-s-sorry, Richie.” Bill’s words confused him enough for him to finally find his face again.

“Sorry? What the hell for?” Richie scoffed. _He_ was the one who should be sorry. Sorry for feeling how he felt, sorry for springing this on his friend like this, sorry for generally being the dumbass that he was.

The deep frown that Bill wore showed no signs of disgust or anger, and it gave Richie a spike of hope that he wouldn’t lose him tonight. “I didn’t know. I w-w-wish I’d known.” 

“Why?” Richie asked, shaking his head. “Would it have changed anything?” 

Bill didn’t answer, and Richie knew what that meant. His heart sank a little, and he knew he’d come to the end of his ability to share feelings. All he wanted was to go back home and lie in bed for the next ten years. 

Cracking his fingers rather dramatically, he put on his best accomplished voice, “Well, I’ve done a great job tonight ruining a friendship, honestly, I astound myself with how good I am at this. Maybe I’ll take a shot at Kaspbrak tomorrow night. The little shit won’t stop texting me stupid memes I’ve already seen.”

“Richie.”

“I could certainly do without that. Who still wears a fanny pack in high school, anyway? God, what a loser. Hell, why should I stop there? Who needs friends, anyway? I’m gonna go on to big things, William. Just you see.”

_“Richie.”_

“LA, baby. That’s where I belong. Maine has never appreciated my incredible charm and devilish good looks. The hippies over there are much more my people. I’m gonna be a hot topic. My name in lights and the whole nine yards. I mean who the hell even cares that I’m gonna die alone? No one leaves this world-”

“Richie, shut up!” 

Finally, he obeyed, watching Bill shake his head sadly. He should turn around, he should just leave now. 

“You’re being dramatic. Just… come inside. P-please. You’re freezing.”

With this, Richie realized that his entire body was shaking, though he wasn’t sure that it was entirely from the cold. “I can’t do that, Bill. Not right now. Not after this.” 

An expression that almost looked like desperation made its way on Bill’s face as he said, “Yes, you can. Please.” 

After a moment of deliberation and more shivering, Richie finally nodded in agreement. The look of relief on Bill’s face was enough to let him know he made the right decision. At least he hoped he had.

Then again, as soon as they entered Bill’s room and he closed the door, Richie was ready to run back outside. Even as Bill crossed the room to throw a blanket at him, and his stiff fingers fumbled with it, he felt his insides burning to run home. 

Instead, he put the blanket around his shoulders and stood as awkwardly as humanly possible in the middle of the floor, not sure exactly what to do.

He didn’t seem to be the only one unsure of how to proceed as Bill gingerly sat on the edge of his bed, staring up at Richie with an expression he couldn’t quite place.

“Are you okay, Ri-Richie?” He asked finally.

“Oh, yeah. I’m having the time of my life right now. This is like, the peak of my teenage years. The masses should envy me. I mean, who wouldn’t want to run over to their best friend’s house in the middle of the fucking night, tell them they’re in love with them, and get rejected in literally the nicest way possible? How could it get any better for me?” He paused, letting out a low breath. “At least you’re not an ass hole. Well… most of the time.”

“Beep, beep, Richie.” Bill said, but his tone was soft.

And Richie hated it.

“Look, I should go home. We still have school in the morning and I need my beauty sleep.” 

He started to shrug off the blanket when Bill said, “Wait!”

Frowning, Richie paused, “What, Bill? Can’t I just go home and sulk in private?” 

“S-s-sit down. Please.” He patted the spot next to him and Richie’s heart lurched at the thought of being so close.

“Uh… no offense, but I’d rather not.”

“P-p-please.” Bill repeated, and as much as he hated it, Richie couldn’t say no.

So, with a sigh, he let the blanket drop to the floor and moved to sit beside his friend.

He heard Bill take in a deep breath as he stared down at his own hands, too much of a coward to look over at the boy he was in love with.

“You don’t want to be in love with me.” 

Richie bit his lip against a humorless laugh, “I mean, you’re right, but why do you think that?”

“There’s b-better people than me to love.” 

With a rather uncouth snort, Richie replied, “Yeah, but unfortunately Jesus is dead, so I can’t exactly shoot my shot with him.”

Bill made an exasperated sound, “I’m serious, Richie.”

“Me too, man.”

Bill shifted then, and said something incredibly unexpected. “I-i didn’t reject you. N-n-not really.” 

“What?” Richie had to shove down that stupid prick of hope that he felt.

Bill took a moment before he spoke again, “You r-remember when I lost G-Georgie, right?”

Hell yeah, he remembered. It was one of the worst things he’d ever seen someone deal with. Bill had blamed himself for so long, hell he probably still did. Not that anyone else did. How could he have known that the kid would get hit by a car when he went out to play on a rainy day? No one could have known. 

Richie had tried to comfort him as best he could, they all had, but what could a few thirteen year olds do against a pain as visceral as that?

Nodding slowly, he muttered, “Yeah.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Richie saw Bill start to play with his hands, but for once he stayed quiet.

“Ever since… I d-d-decided not to love anyone like that again. B-b-be-because I can’t f-f-f-feel that again. It was too fu-fucking hard.” Richie wasn’t sure where he was going with this, but didn’t interrupt. “You guys, the Losers, I l-l-love you so fucking much. I do. B-b-but sometimes… s-s-so-so-s-s-” He paused and Richie glanced at him. The frustration was plain on his face, but Richie had learned a long time ago to not try finishing Bill’s words for him. It only made him more upset. Finally, he was able to continue, saying, “It’s different… when I think of you. I-i-it’s like… it’s like… with him…”

Richie frowned at this, finally looking over at Bill completely, “Are you saying you love me like your little brother?” He supposed it wasn’t the _worst_ place he could be, but it still stung more than just being friendzoned.

Bill gave him a fierce look as he replied, “N-n-no, you idiot. I’m, saying that if… if I l-l-let myself, I’ll l-love you so much, that it’ll h-h-hurt just as bad when I l-l-lo…. when I.... lose you.” 

At this, Richie blinked in surprise. Was Bill saying what he thought he was saying? That prick of hope on his heart grew in size and he didn’t think he could stop it if he tried. 

“So, you… you do feel the same way as me?”

Wordlessly, Bill nodded, and Richie would have jumped for joy if his eyes weren’t still so endlessly sad.

“Why do you think you’re going to lose me?” He certainly had no intention of running in front of a car any time soon. And as terrified as he’d been of losing Bill when he’d come here, he realized that it would take more than pent up emotions to tear them apart.

“B-because I am. I’m g-going to New York, and you’re going to LA, and… and you’re gonna f-f-forget all about me.” 

It was so strange to hear his own fears being parroted back at him like this. He’d had no idea that Bill was just as afraid as he was. 

“I could never forget you, Bill.” He said as genuinely as he’d ever managed. It was the truth, after all. For all of his chest puffing and big talk, he would never be too good for his friends, especially Bill.

The side of Bill’s mouth tipped upward into a smile, but it was still so sad that Richie couldn’t stand it. “Maybe.”

“God, lighten up, Denbrough. You know, worrying all the time gives you wrinkles, and you’re just too damn pretty for that, it would be such a shame.” Richie reached forward, pinching Bill’s cheeks lightly, “Look at this face. Absolutely stunning.”

“Richie, stop.” Bill pushed his hands away, but his smile was lighter, at least a little, and Richie figured it was enough. “Has anyone ever told you y-you’re a pain in the ass?”

“Only every day.” He responded, flashing his best thousand-watt smile. 

With a low sigh, Bill muttered, “What am I gonna do with you?” 

Richie gave an exaggerated shrug at this, “I dunno, man. My parents have been asking me the same question since I wa-” but he was cut off when Bill grabbed him by the shirt, pulled him forward, and pressed their lips together with an almost bruising force. Surprise made him pause, but only for a moment, before reciprocating. 

Bill’s mouth was warm and hungry, as if he’d been waiting just as long as Richie had for this moment. Yet, for all the fantasizing he’d done before convincing himself he didn’t _actually_ want this, it wasn’t what he’d thought. Richie had never been in love with anyone before. Sure, he’d kissed girls that he’d liked well enough, but nothing had ever come close to the burning electricity that was shooting through his entire body. His head swam with a jumble of emotions, questions, and no conceivable answers. It was dizzying and exciting and new, and it was over in too short a time.

When they pulled away from each other, Richie felt himself breathing as if he’d just tried to run the mile, and despite his best efforts, a witty remark just wouldn’t come to mind.

Bill, who’s eyes were wide, and lips blood red, grinned wider than Richie had seen from him in a while and said, “I finally found something that shuts you up. I’ll have to remember it for later.”

For some reason, in this moment, that was the funniest thing Richie had ever heard in his miserable goddamn life and he began to laugh so hard that he fell backward onto the bed, clutching his stomach as he did so. Maybe it was because his emotions had literally been thrown back and forth at light speed since he’d woken from his nightmare, but it took entirely too long for him to calm down. 

Bill had laughed with him at first and laid back next to him, but he mostly watched him with amusement and something strange on his face. Finally when Richie quieted, he said, “You’re such a weirdo.” 

Richie, his face sore from grinning, snorted, “Yeah, it takes one to know one.” 

For a few moments, they merely stayed like that, wordlessly looking at each other. Richie didn’t want this moment to end, but he knew it would, so he took in a breath to softly say, “You’re not gonna lose me, Bill. Not really. We’ll make it work.” 

Bill put on that dreaded frown again as he asked, “How?” 

Shoving a small, meaningful smile on his face, Richie replied, “I don’t know. We’ll figure it out. We always figure everything out.” In that moment, he thought of the pen that still lay in his pocket, and figured they would inevitably have to write themselves a happy ending, no matter how many plot holes it created.

Bill’s expression softened at this and he nodded. “Alright. I trust you.” 

Richie laughed a little at this. “Oh, God. That’s a mistake.” 

“Maybe.”

“Definitely.”

“I don’t think so.”

“And here I thought you were smart.” 

“Definitely not smart. Just a loser.”

A fond smile lit up Richie’s face at this. “Yeah. Me, too.”


End file.
